


so big, so green and so blue (it'll be fine)

by murphamy



Series: it'll be fine [1]
Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Canon Compliant, M/M, ark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-21
Updated: 2017-11-21
Packaged: 2019-01-31 05:10:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,786
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12675072
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/murphamy/pseuds/murphamy
Summary: Murphy can only stay away so long.





	so big, so green and so blue (it'll be fine)

**Author's Note:**

> IT IS I, BACK WITH A FIC. My writing has changed so much since I last wrote murphamy (a year ago?) but I've missed it so much. I really hope you enjoy this! I super enjoyed writing it, even if it only took a measly hour! Much love!

He should have stayed in the lighthouse.

Murphy hates space - loves that he’s survived the end of the world - hates living on the Ark.

With only the ring left, it’s small and old and everyone is on top of each other. There are only seven of them, on a station designed by the Japanese for 200, but still he feels claustrophobic. The air is metallic and dry, and they live in constant fear of the oxygenator tanking. There have been a few close calls in the past two months, but Raven, brilliant and wonderful Raven, always figures out a solution before they suffocate.

The water reclamation system is fine, just-- disgusting. Drinking recycled urine and sweat isn’t how he wants to spend the next five years of his life, but what can they do? Technically, Raven and Monty have said it’s perfectly safe for them to return, but that doesn’t include Emori or Echo, and they aren't leaving them behind. There's also the fact they currently have no way to return.

Raven has already exhausted her options. They’ve had no communication with the bunker - not that they would be of much help. Octavia had forced Kane, Jaha and Abby to choose 100 people. Naturally, they chose doctors, children and engineers who would undoubtedly slave away for the next half a decade trying to maintain the bunker. Murphy doesn’t entirely blame Octavia - hates his people to every corner of Earth - but still thinks she’s a bitch for what she’s done. He says as much to Bellamy days after Go-Sci has become their new home, earns himself a punch and a very sore, very bruised jaw.

Murphy sits in the airlock now, staring out at the great expanse. It’s black, a bit blacker, and sometimes he sees stars or the other planets twinkling in the distance, admires the moon as it glistens, and frowns when the airlock becomes a window to Earth and his chest constricts and his breathing shallows. He feels – enclosed. He spends hours looking out at the universe, entirely never-ending and then some, and still he feels like he’s trapped in a prison cell.

The irony is the Sky Box didn’t make him feel like this.

His heart never beat so erratically, threatening to break free from his ribcage. Maybe it’s because Murphy had never known freedom, in and out of juvenile confinement ever since his parents both died – ever since his father was murdered and his mother was a drunken coward who killed herself – whether or not it was an accident, it was still her own damn fault.

On Earth, he knew freedom. The planet was so big, so green and so blue. The air was fresh, and the wind wasn't artificial. It rained and hailed and in places it snowed - though it never lasted long - and he misses it. He yearns for it.

He’d never had the luxury of a window – never knew what Earth looked like from space, except for that one time in school, when he was eight and there was a trip to the hospital as a career field day, and the hospital bay had such a huge window. It was three times the height of him, and spanned the entire length of the room.

Some other kid – Murphy doesn’t remember his name, knows he came down on the dropship with them – asked what would happen if an asteroid hit the ark, smashed the glass. The teacher frowned, said nothing, and sent him to stand outside for the rest of the day, whilst all the other students stared out at the Earth (rather than listening to Abby Griffin try to explain why the medical industry on the Ark was the best option).

Back then, it didn't hurt so much to see it.

None of them ever expected to go to Earth - to live, and to fight for their right to survive there.

It was drilled into all of them since they could talk and walk - the Earth needed another hundred plus years to be survivable. You will never go there. You will never see trees and fight the weather and track real, living, breathing animals through the undergrowth.

If Murphy had never been sent to Earth, he would never have known any different. Doesn't regret stabbing the man he did to get locked up - would do it over and over again if it meant he could go back home. Home.

He wonders often if he deserves it - maybe that's why he's here. Then he thinks that if he does deserve it - why is Raven here? (She wants to be in space, but deserves the entire Earth itself for everything she's done, been through. Everything Murphy has put her through.)

He's not a bad person - except he is, he really, really is - and it's not fair that he feels like this. Anxious and panicked and upset, distraught, frustrated - an endless list of negative emotions all because there are six other people - most of whom don't like him - sharing a rickety steel tank in the middle of nowhere. Somewhere. In the middle of never ending space.

"What are you doing?"

The door to the airlock opens before he hears it. Murphy rubs at his eyes, there are no tears, but he's tired and his head hurts.

"Nothing," he grits out, keeping his gaze strictly away from Bellamy and out the airlock.

"You shouldn't be in here," Bellamy says, and sits next to him. He's so close - their thighs touch - and Murphy feels worse.

"Go float yourself," Murphy mutters.

Bellamy laughs - Murphy wants to ask why, but Bellamy feels the need to explain anyway.

"We won't be able to say that for much longer. Go float yourself. Kind of weird on Earth, right?"

It's not even funny, just stupid, but Murphy chokes out a quiet, pained laugh. Bellamy is kind of funny - still doesn't like him.

Bellamy nudges his shoulder against Murphy's, and he turns to glare at the older man fiercely.

"I'm trying to be friendly here," Bellamy says, defensive, "we are going to be up here for five years. Together."

"You hate me."

"I don't."

"I hate _you_."

"You probably should."

"You tried to hang me for something I never did, then defended the real culprit. You're a hypocrite. I saved your ass how many times? I never got a thank you, I never got a sorry, Murphy, I was wrong." He's not bitter. He's extremely bitter. Sure, he's done some shitty things in his life, but why does that make him the bad guy? The entire world - and space beyond - is against him. He never did anything bad until wrong was done against him. That's justice - not revenge, it's justice.

"I'm sorry, Murphy. I was wrong."

Bellamy's tone is serious, not mocking and not annoyed. Murphy turns to look at him - doesn't meet his gaze as he's looking away, bottom lip sucked into his mouth, face concentrating. "I guess I did as many stupid things as you. Probably started it." Definitely started it. "I got lucky because Clarke liked me."

"Yeah, and princess Bitch hates me."

"Hated."

Murphy waves a hand, disregarding. Alive, dead, alive then suddenly dead, it's all the same to him.

"I don't think she hated you," Bellamy says, sighing a little wistfully. Talking about Clarke always upsets him, not that Murphy understands why. Bellamy outright denies having romantic feelings for her, but Murphy isn't sure whether he believes him or not. "She just didn't understand you."

"And you do?" Murphy scoffs. 

When Bellamy turns to look at him, he looks away stubbornly.

"You and I aren't so different," he says, soft and low like he's confessing a secret. "You know that. At least, you used to."

"You're wrong."

Bellamy shakes his head, and bumps their shoulders together again. 

"You used to follow me around like - what did they used to say? - like a lost puppy. You were right on my heels. That wasn't because you related to me?"

"You were strong." Murphy pulls his knees up to his chest, wraps his arms around them. "I thought if I stuck with you, earned my place at your side, that everything would be okay. I was-"

"-scared." Bellamy finishes for him. "Needed protecting. You were weak."

Murphy nods, contemplative, honest. "I was weak."

"I was only strong because I shot Jaha. I needed to be in charge. I couldn't let the adults come down-"

"-I wish you had just run," Murphy sighs. "We could have just gone."

"We?"

"I would have followed you anywhere. Until-"

"-I tried to kill you?"

"Maybe even still then."

Silence passes between them.

It's the closest they've ever been - not physically (Murphy vividly remembers Bellamy's hands and mouth on his weeping cock, hot callous fingers twisting his nipples or buried deep in his ass), but emotionally. He's never really understood Bellamy, he blows hot and cold, vile and traitorous and then instantly kind - protective. He's never honest, though. Never says what he's really feeling - hence why Murphy doubts his platonic feelings for Clarke - and never admits when someone else is right. It's strange, seeing this side of him. He isn't sure he likes it.

"You're stupid," Bellamy says after a while, more a whisper than anything.

"Not stupid," Murphy mumbles. "Just reckless. Something like that."

"I kind of like it."

What's Murphy supposed to say to that?

"I'm sorry for everything I did," Bellamy murmurs, gently placing a hand on Murphy's knee, close to his face where Murphy's curled himself into a ball. "I should have looked after you properly. I was the weak one."

Murphy shrugs. "I don't care anymore. I don't need you anymore."

Bellamy pushes himself up by his hands, standing, and brushes his clothes off out of habit - the ark doesn't have a single spec of dirt anywhere. "I'll still be here. I'm not going anywhere - can't."

 "Bellamy?" Murphy says, turns around to find him just stepping outside the airlock, obviously not expecting Murphy to say anything as he twists around a little too quickly. "I'm sorry for everything I did too."

"Bygones," he says, and Murphy smiles - really smiles - as Bellamy leaves, and he turns back to stare out the reinforced glass as Earth comes back into view.

It's not so big and so green and so blue from here. It's small, and a burning rust colour, and as long as it looks like that, maybe it won't be so hard to stay sane. Up here. In the never-ending expanse of space that makes him so anxious and so calm all at the same time. 

It will be fine.

Returning to Earth will be a new start - it won't be the same as last time.

It'll be fine. 


End file.
